


Near Scandal Experience

by Arinalle Fanirei (ShakyHades)



Series: Deviants 'verse [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Dumb stupid horny teenagers, M/M, Making Out, Noctis is a little shit, Nothing Bad Happens™, POV Alternating, getting caught, i still love them tho still love them, my POOR DORKS need a good dose of common sense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-16 22:12:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13063215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShakyHades/pseuds/Arinalle%20Fanirei
Summary: Long before they were mentally scarring poor Crownsguards for life, Noctis and Prompto try to figure out their budding relationship.Too bad they'reteenagersfilled with too many hormones and not enough common sense to know thatyou shouldn't get handsy in the Six-damned school bathroom.





	Near Scandal Experience

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AmbitiousSkychild](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmbitiousSkychild/gifts).



> Hello, and welcome to "Watch Horny Teenagers Fuck Up" time.  
> So, this series will have a kinda screwy sequence, time-wise, so this takes place before "Tales from a Tired™ Crownsguard". In this one, I continue my new habit of making OCs to suffer because of Promptis, which is honestly just absolutely funny to me.  
> To all of you that have read the first fic, thank you! Specially to all of those that left comments and kudos and bookmarks! Y'all make this fandom a very nice place for me.  
> Enjoy those dumb teens!

It’s a normal day at school for Noctis and Prompto. The classes drag on forever, their schoolmates continue with their staring habit, and the matter of graduation and plans for the future looms over the third years. Out of the two of them, Prompto is predictably the most anxious about such matters; Noctis is, after all, the _Prince_ , and has no needs for mortal worries such as _college._

And anyway, it isn’t _quite_ the same as always. Slowly, they’re forging a _new_ usual for themselves -- trying to figure out their (relatively new) relationship: what changes with it and what doesn’t. They’re treading unknown waters, but they’re doing it _together,_ and that’s what matters in the end.

It’s been nearly two months since they, as Gladio put it, had gotten their head out of their asses long enough to confess. Ignis cringed at the wording but agreed with the sentiment, which left Noctis and Prompto to be indignant all by themselves.

Prompto would like to be able to say that they were slowly getting used to being more affectionate with each other; taking it slow maybe... But he can’t fool even himself. They’re _teenagers,_ Six-damn it, on the ripe age of seventeen, and hormones are still a pretty big deal.

They are no strangers to physical affection, in any case: it’s been literal _years_ of sitting close together, of nearly constant touches -- an arm thrown around the other’s shoulders, a steadying grip when one of them (usually Prompto) tripped on a rock -- and now things have just… progressed into another level. One that has kisses and touches that leave no margin for platonic interpretation.

It’s an adventure, really, filled with new discoveries and _a lot_ of stumbling, but Prompto wouldn’t trade it for the world. He’s fallen in love with the way Noctis will stare at him, all soft with the dorkiest smile on his lips, for however long until Prompto makes him stop -- because it makes Prompto’s stomach fill with butterflies and his face go so red it drowns out his freckles, as he well knows.

Noctis had told him that the King approves of their relationship-- and _boy,_ wasn’t that some heart-stopping news, from the implication that _Noctis had fucking told his father, the KING, that they were DATING._

Prompto had never feared so much for his life as he did the moment he remembered that the boy he was dating was the _Crown Prince of Lucis._ But though he waited and waited, no one came to assassinate him at the middle of the night in the following weeks. Thus, Prompto guessed he had passed whatever extensive background checks they had put him through, and wasn’t _that_ a boost to his self-esteem?

Aside from those nights in which Prompto could barely blink -- much less sleep -- waiting for the Crownsguard or Kingsglaive assigned to off him, the past two months had been pretty good. They had gone out on real dates, spent hours on the sofa on soft kisses and sometimes on touches a little more _daring_ \-- as the _teenagers_ they are _._

The hormones that accompany that last little fact is what leads them to the current situation: hidden inside a stall in one of the bathrooms at their school, nearly half an hour after the last bell.

They try to be quiet, but it’s difficult; the feeling of being touched by _another person_ is still too novel for that. Prompto’s shirt is lifted halfway across his torso, courtesy of Noctis’ hand. His other hand is holding Prompto’s face as they try to kiss but basically pant into each other’s mouth instead.

If he wasn’t presently occupied, Prompto would definitely be complaining about being pressed against the stall door -- ugh, imagine how many bacteria it must have oh my Six -- but as it stands, his focus is one hundred percent on the _body_ pressing him to said door.

There are words of protest on the tip of Prompto’s tongue -- about how Ignis will arrive to collect them at any minute now, how someone could still be loitering around much like themselves and a myriad of other reasons that exemplify how much of a _terrible_ idea this is -- but he has no higher brain functions at the moment, please try again later.

Noctis moves and presses his leg between Prompto’s, which makes Prompto’s eyes roll into the back of his head, which thumps audibly on the stall door. Though his eyes are closed, he _knows_ Noctis is smirking, ‘cause his best friend turned boyfriend is a little shit.

Another snap of Noctis’ hips has Prompto clutching the other’s shoulders for support, a gasp escaping from him, unbidden. Noctis’ smirk only grows, so Prompto moves his hands to Noctis waist and pulls him even closer, grinning unabashedly at Noctis’ shudder.

“I don’t know if I hate you or love you right now, dude,” Prompto says, grin still bright on his face as he places his arms back around Noctis’ shoulders.

Noctis chuckles. “I’m fine with either,” he replies, cheekily, and Prompto swats at his head.

“Yeah right, as if y-you could handle me h-hating you,” he gasps, breath hitching as Noctis goes back into lavishing his neck with attention.

“I totally could,” Noctis mutters against his skin, hips having found a rhythm that creates just the _right_ amount of friction.

“Yeah okay,” Prompto laughs breathlessly, trying to find the purchase needed to thrust back.

“Glad you agree,” Noctis says, and then laughs at the sound of Prompto thumping his head on the door-- again.

 

x

 

Being a janitor at the school the _Crown Prince_ goes to isn’t so bad. For starters, the salary is actually decent, even if the work is a bit more demanding than the usual. There’s more pressure to keep everything clean and in order due to the sheer amount of noble teenagers that rushed to the school after the Prince enrolled -- which leads to a need to keep it all pristine to please the kids _and_ their influential parents.

It’s quite the chore, because teenagers are gross no matter their social standing -- something Jaster Dallor knows pretty well. Six, the things he has seen written in the bathroom stalls, or found hidden around furniture, or the mysterious stains in questionable locations that he is _really_ glad not to know the history of.

So far he’s found miscellaneous pieces of food that would give the science kids a _fit_ over how many bacteria and fungi and whatever else was probably growing there -- and create disgust in everyone else. Some other highlights are a true collection of wrappers behind a cabinet, the classic gum stuck under desks and many, many others.

It’s the predictable consequence of working around hundreds of teenagers and honestly, Jaster is used to it, much like the other janitors. At this point it’s just a game to see who can find the weirdest thing; though it sometimes morphs into bullshitting a story and seeing how long it takes for them to start doubting you, which is _always_ worth witnessing.

This particular day, however, Jaster is stuck with the most undesirable section of all: bathrooms. It’s been some twenty minutes since the last bell, and most of the kids have already gone home, because teenagers usually don’t want to stay in school longer than they absolutely have to.

Music is playing through his earbuds, because he just doesn’t get people who can work _without_ music, and it helps him get into a rhythm anyway. Jaster has learnt the lesson not to leave the volume too high, though -- one too many jump-scares on an empty-ass school that were really taking a toll on his heart and sanity.

So, as a direct consequence of that, Jaster immediately recognizes the sounds coming from the stall farthest from the door in the boys’ bathroom. He rolls his eyes, because _seriously, how are teenagers even people,_ and sets his little cart full of cleaning supplies to the side, mentally preparing himself to interrupt the couple.

Though it’s a terribly awkward situation, it’s also the best ever -- the reactions people have when getting caught _in the act_ provides him with laughing stock for weeks. But Jaster is an adult with kids, and has thus mastered the Stern Look of Disapproval, independent of what he’s really feeling. So he takes out the earbuds, straightens his posture and walks to the stall in question, banging the door three times -- quite loudly.

“Party’s over, kids, you’re coming with me to the principal’s office,” Jaster says calmly, ignoring the loud _“FUCK”_ that immediately comes from the other side of the door. Then comes the scramble to be presentable, the classical _‘OW’_ after one of them obligatorily hits an elbow or knee on something, and the whispered-shouting exchange where blame gets passed around.

Jaster takes a step back and crosses his arms, bringing the Disapproving act to a higher level, just to drive the point of ‘ _what the hell are you doing, dumb teenagers??’_ home. Then the door opens.

A freckled blond boy, so red in the face that a stop sign would be jealous, comes out first. It’s clear from the boy’s body language that he would rather be dead than be here, and Jaster laughs internally because while that’s a common reaction, it never stops being funny.

And then the other boy steps out, and Jaster’s act nearly falters and he also nearly falls to the ground because _that’s the fucking Six-damned Crown Prince of goddamn Lucis oh my Six I just caught the PRINCE AND HIS BOYFRIEND holy fuck--_

_Okay. Deep breath. Don’t let them know you’re in goddamn fucking shock._

“C’mon, to the principal’s we go,” Jaster says, and mentally pats himself in the back for keeping his voice steady, because he has no fucking idea how he’s done it. The Prince and his boyfriend continue their little whispered argument after falling in line behind him, but Jaster’s world has just been turned on its axis and there’s only so much his brain can process at once.

He knocks on the principal’s door when they arrive, and then pokes his head in. “Mr. Langford? I caught a couple fooling around in the boys’ bathroom.”

Langford straightens on his chair and nods at Jaster. “Show them in.”

Jaster opens the door and steps aside, motioning for the boys to enter. He sees Langford’s masked shock at seeing the Prince and gives a subtle nod, as if saying ‘ _yeah, it’s really him, i caught the future King of our nation making out with his boyfriend’._ Once the boys sit, both looking everywhere but the principal, Jaster quietly closes the door, and then pauses for a moment to let it all sink in.

And then, he’s hit with sudden clarity because -- this is it. This is the story his kids and future grandkids will never believe. This is the story that he’ll laugh about ‘til the end of his days, and that his offspring will roll their eyes at and be like ‘yeah okay, dad/granddad, of course that happened, I believe you’ when they clearly don’t.

Jaster can barely wait.

 

x

 

Never, in his near-decade career as a principal, did Horace Langford _ever_ imagine he’d have to lecture the _Prince_ about decency. For all intents and purposes, they look like just two normal students, absolutely embarrassed at the situation and wishing to disappear into thin air, but Horace can’t shut down the little part of his brain that keeps repeating that _that’s the_ **_Prince_ ** _._

If he is one hundred percent honest with himself right now, he’s nearly shitting himself. Is he even _allowed_ to lecture the Prince? Will the ‘glaive come for him if he does? The Prince was rumored to be such a quiet, withdrawn boy -- Horace never dreamt that he would enter his office for breaking the rules.

He clears his throat and the blond boy flinches slightly, sinking further into his chair. Horace has come to a decision. When the Prince’s advisor first conversed with Horace about the possibility of his charge enrolling in Horace’s high school, he had known right away that rest of the nobility would do anything to have their children attend as well -- all the trouble, just on the possibility of one of them making friends with the Prince.

Horace had two options in light of that: let the noble kids do as they pleased just because of who their parents were, or be as fair as possible and deal out punishment for misbehaviors regardless of the parentage of the offender. In the end, he chose the latter, and has thus far stood by it, no matter how many students threatened to call their parents at the lightest of punishments.

Which means that he will have to give the Prince a lecture. Horace is, after all, a man of his word, and he made a promise to be fair no matter what. Still, it’s a daunting thought -- one which  has him breaking out in cold sweat and desperately trying to hide it at the same time.

But there’s no way Horace can do it while staring at the face of his future King, so he focuses on the blonde boy instead, who is looking so mortified that Horace kind of pities him.

“I am sure you know what you did was wrong,” he starts, and the blonde sinks even more into the chair under his gaze. “But it seems you need a reminder so that it doesn’t happen again. The school is a place of learning and, to a certain extent, socializing, not fooling around in the bathrooms after-hours.

“I will not tell you what to do with your off time _at home,_ but the school is no place for such inappropriate behavior,” he continues, and sees the boy mouth _oh my Six, kill me_ and then try not to be too obvious about covering his face, which makes Horace laugh internally despite it all. “Especially one filled with nobles such as this, all hungering for a scandal. P--” he stops and clears his throat, trying to stop fear for his life from clogging it -- “Prince Noctis, you must take special care with such matters. Your reputation must be maintained, I’m certain.”

Horace takes a moment to study the Prince and his boyfriend. The former nods at all the appropriate pauses, but looks to be a thousand miles away in spirit -- something Horace has learned to identify by spending entirely too much time around teenagers -- while the latter is embarrassed nearly to the point of tears. It’s so miserable that it activates some kind of primal urge to protect, or something in that vein, and Horace takes advantage of that feeling to cut the lecture short and potentially stop himself from getting killed.

“Given that this is the first time this has happened and that no students witnessed it, I will let you off with a warning, but I would like to talk with your guardians,” he says, and sees the Prince lose the color of his face startlingly fast at the last part. _Hah,_ he laughs internally, _someone will definitely make sure that this never happens again, if I’m reading that face right._

“You are dismissed,” he finishes, and gives himself a hearty pat on the back for successfully delivering a lecture to the future King.

 

x

 

Noctis sighs as he closes the door of the principal’s office behind him, raising a hand to mess with his hair, embarrassed. Prompto is a few steps ahead of him, looking elsewhere, and the set of his shoulders and the barely visible purse of his mouth makes Noctis feel terribly sorry for insisting on their little makeout session later. 

He totally understands Prompto being mad at him. Noctis had noticed that the principal spent most of the time focusing on Prompto, after all -- probably afraid of staring at the him, a.k.a. the Prince -- and though Noctis’ has had much worse lectures, courtesy of Ignis, this one had been particularly brutal in light of the  _ subject. _

So Noctis lets Prompto have his silence while they walk to the gates, where Ignis is most likely waiting for them. Gods,  _ Ignis,  _ now  _ that’s  _ gonna be a really painful lecture -- Noctis grimaces just thinking about it.

When he looks at Prompto again, it’s to see that the other’s shoulders have hunched up further, and he’s walking faster than before. It makes Noctis worry for him and feel like shit at the same time because the whole situation is  _ his fault. _

He jogs a bit to catch up, and opens his mouth to say something, but the air between them is so heavy that whatever words he could say die at the tip of his tongue. That is, until he reaches Prompto’s side and sees the light catch on--  _ tears  _ in the corner of Prompto’s eyes.

Between one blink and the next, Noctis is in front of Prompto, holding out his arms and full on concerned. Prompto looks down and away, avoiding his gaze, and this is new; strange -- Prompto is rarely, if ever, like this.

“Prom?” Noctis says, in his softest voice, lowering himself a bit to try and catch Prompto’s eyes, who only looks further away. Noctis doesn’t let it deter him; he steps closer cautiously, until he’s touching Prompto’s arms. “Prom, what’s wrong?”

It’s then that he realizes that Prompto is shaking just the tiniest bit. It makes Noctis want to hide him away from the world in a hug, forever, but he doesn’t know how well he’d take it at the moment so he pushes the thought aside.

“It’s nothing,” Prompto says, but his voice cracks, betraying him. His brows furrow a bit at it -- trying to hide vulnerability? -- and he wipes his eyes harshly, but his lip wobbles. Noctis steps closer, hooks a finger under Prompto’s chin and tries to meet his eyes again.

“Prom, it’s obvious something’s wrong. I’m sorry I insisted on it, I should have known better, and I’m sorry you had to go through that lecture. What do you need me to do, Prom?”

Prompto’s mask crumbles the more Noctis talks, until all that’s left are the tears and the clear frustration. He then steps forward, into Noctis’ open arms, and hugs him tight. Noctis returns the embrace, rubbing circles on Prompto’s back.

His tears are few and silent, and it’s not long before they’re just swaying in place, with Prompto still hiding away from the world in the crook of Noctis’ neck.

“Sorry about that,” Prompto says, then clears his throat to get rid of the raspiness. “And it’s not solely your fault, Noct. I was there too, if you’ll remember, and I could have totally kicked your ass if I really didn’t want it, it’s just-- ugh this will sound so pitiful but-- my parents are never around so I’m not used to lectures and that one just crit hit me, holy shit--”

Noctis can’t help it: he laughs, soft and full of affection for this stupid sunshine boy he fell for. He thinks that might have been the point of him saying such a thing, because Prompto is always down for lightening the mood.

So Noctis squeezes Prompto one more time and then steps back, to be able to look at his boyfriend’s red and somewhat blotchy face --  _ still adorable,  _ his brain comments -- and then leans forward until their foreheads touch.

“It’s alright. Sorry about how he stared at you for the entire thing, he was probably terrified of me,” Noctis says, deadpan, and it has the desired effect: a laugh, albeit weak.

“Yes, because you are absolutely terrifying. Not like your dad isn’t the King, making you the Crown Prince,” Prompto retorts, making Noctis scoff and turn his face away.

They resume their way to the school gates, fingers interlaced. When they’re almost there, Noctis pulls on Prompto’s hand a bit to make him stop, and says: “Hey, don’t worry ‘bout Specs, okay? I’ll make sure he lays off your case.”

Prompto rolls his eyes and shoves at Noctis’ shoulders. “Dude, didn’t I tell you earlier? This is my fault too, if you’re getting a lecture, I probably deserve it as well.”

Noctis  _ looks  _ at him, wordlessly conveying  _ ‘are you sure you can handle a Ignis Scientia™ lecture if you’re in this state after that one?’ _ with all the sarcasm such a message asks for.

He knows it’s been successfully received when Prompto smacks him on the head and grumbles, too low for Noctis to hear, something that makes him laugh unabashedly.

And yeah, okay, maybe they’ll die tonight or  _ at least  _ be skinned alive by Ignis for their little act, but in that moment -- with Prompto’s hand warm on Noctis’ own and his dorky laugh filling the hallways -- Noctis decides it’s worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> Jaster was approached by Crownsguard and sworn not to say anything about what happened, which he does even though a few years later Prompto & Noctis start to do the same shit in larger scales. The story he tells his grand/kids that they never believe is that he _was sworn to secrecy by the crownsguard_ and his grand/kids are like 'oh yeah? if it's true, what was it about?' and he's like 'i ain't telling, i was sworn to secrecy' and the kids roll their eyes like 'okay grand/dad, fine'.
> 
> Ignis totally rips them a new one when they got to Noctis' apartment, and Prompto gets a permanent blush that lasts at least 3 days after it, and his ears ring. They tell each other 'never again' but WE ALL KNOW THAT'S A LIE.


End file.
